


The Kid's Are(n't) Alright

by SEABlRD



Category: Warcraft (2016), Warcraft - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse Mention, but everything is ok i promise, church
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-14
Updated: 2016-11-14
Packaged: 2018-08-31 00:40:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8555857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SEABlRD/pseuds/SEABlRD
Summary: Why doesn't Khadgar like going to church?





	

**Author's Note:**

> ... this was supposed to be a drabble too ._. i have no self control, as it turns out  
>  this story started back in october with some. pretty questionable inquiries i posted on tumblr asking people who know more about church than I do how it works \\( 'v' )/ i still don't know how it works, really, and I don't think i'll ever do something like this again because wow i'm clueless lmao  
> but !! i hope this is mostly good/accurate and I hope I haven't written anything that's insulting to people's beliefs ;v;

For the life of him, Khadgar will never know how someone like Garona managed to get roped into being a volunteer at the local church.

Well, he says ‘local’ but it’s actually quite far. She only got into it because her foster father is also a volunteer there, and she tagged along. Otherwise, Garona is the last person one would picture helping out around a church, with her black, red painted tank tops and ripped jeans, tied together with her heavy-looking combat boots and fully decked out in thick chains. She looks like she might fit in better with a gang, or maybe a satanic cult.

Well, appearances can be deceiving, Khadgar guesses. The church is lenient enough to let her wear what she wants, as long as she isn’t indecent, so that might be a factor in why she tolerates it so much.  Which is an understatement, really; she must absolutely  _ love _ it since she has to take the bus for at least a half hour to get to the church, which Khadgar personally thinks is a waste of good time that could be spent at home (not) working on his thesis. He knows less about how she somehow convinced him to go to this church event with her.

“Listen, Gar, you know I’m not one for all that church stuff,” Khadgar pleads even as he pulls on his jacket and running shoes on his way out the door. The cellphone he has tucked between his shoulder and his ear crackles with laughter as Garona makes fun of him. “Seriously! Last time I had a run-in with bible thumpers I was lucky to get out of it alive.”

“Come on, we’re not ‘bible thumpers’. Don’t be so dramatic, Khad, it’s just one volunteer event.” Garona says, her voice mixing in with the cacophony of noises going on in the background on her end. “There isn’t even any real  _ church _ stuff involved. Besides, I wanna introduce you to my dad. It’s about time the two of you met.”

“You say that like we’re dating.” Khadgar deadpans, fishing his car keys out of his jeans with one hand and fumbling with his phone with the other.

“Yeah right, we both know you’re not my type.”

Khadgar scoffs. “As if you’re mine? Please, I wouldn’t sleep with you if you  _ paid  _ me.”

“I’d rather save the two dollars and buy myself some chicken nuggets.”

He sticks his tongue out at his phone even though he knows Garona can’t see him, and hangs up on her. He gets into his car and stars her up, wincing at the unhealthy chugging noises she makes.

She’s an older model, somewhere earlier than 2004, but she’s been reliable so far and her radio plays like a charm. Khadgar spent good money fixing her up, and he’ll be damned the day she finally decides to quit on him. But, for now, she runs just well enough to get him across town and to church safely. Which is definitely not something he ever expected to be going to.

There’s no traffic on the road as he drives down to the church, which is unfortunate for Khadgar because any delay would be a blessing to him. He turns the radio on and blasts some hit list music to calm his jittery nerves.

The idea of churches and the people who go to them always set him on edge. Not that they’re all bad people, mind you. Khadgar was raised by a very kind, religious woman who loved and supported him for as long as he lived with her, but the town he grew up in was inhabited by religious people of the loud and discriminatory kind, which made his childhood less than easy. Being a gay kid isn’t very fun when everybody around you is telling you it’s a sin against god to be the kind of person you are, that you are not  _ right  _ as a person as a whole.

That’s all in the past, though, right? Khadgar thinks as he pulls up to the church. There are fold-out tables set up along the sidewalk with boxes half unpacked sitting on and around them, with a handful of people milling about trying to get the sale organized.

Garona spots him as he parks in the little space in the parking lot, hitting the driver’s side window three times for him to roll it down. Khadgar gives her a ‘one moment’ gesture as he unbuckled himself and steps out of the car.

“Glad you could make it,” Garona says, messing with his hair, to Khadgar’s immense displeasure. “We need an extra pair of hands to get these displays set up before we open.”

“First of all, don’t do that, and second, I’m here to help so just tell me where you want me.” 

Garona puts her hands on her hips, chewing on her bottom lip pensively. “Well, most of the other volunteers are all old ladies with declining arm strength, so maybe if you could help us out by grabbing the bigger boxes at by the back and bringing them up for us to set them out? That would be great.”

“What about your dad?” Khadgar says, already heading toward the church and wringing his hands. It’s much nicer than the churches he remembers, nicely painted with some colourful, cheerful flowers in little boxes by the windows. 

“He’s not coming by until later, but he’s excited to meet you!” Garona exclaims, clapping only somewhat sarcastically. 

“Great! I’m so glad your dad finally gets to meet your one friend.” Khadgar says, giving her a condescending grin.

“I have more than one friend, you rude little shit,” she hits him upside the head for that. He rubs the back of his head and glares at her back as she moves to help a lady unpack a box of old clothes.

“Could’ve fooled me…” he mutters, stopping one of the other volunteers to ask her where the rest of the boxes are.

“They’re right at the back, behind the altar, dearie!” the lady says, pointing toward the door to the humble altar visible at the far end of the church. Khadgar’s heart sinks in his stomach like a ball of lead, and he gives her a shaky fake smile before heading inside.

The church is rather bright, which is unusual to him since he’s used to darkly lit churches with dark wood pews and opaque stained glass. Usually lit with maybe one or two light bulbs, and a small ceiling window over the altar.

So the inside of this church is completely foreign to him. It’s mostly coloured in pale shades of off white and beige, with bright tiles and many windows and white-painted pews. There are many lights hanging from the ceiling, and the windows let in the sunlight. It’s so bright, in fact, that he can see the individual motes of dust as they swirl around him when he walks. It’s almost off-putting, unnatural. Like the sterile white of a hospital room. 

Khadgar can feel his heartbeat picking up, thirteen years of growing up in a hardcore catholic town catching up to him all at once. He hurries to the boxes at the back, seeing that there are only a few of them. Three big ones, which isn’t too bad. He picks up the first one and nearly sprints out the door with it.

The same lady he saw earlier, he hears Garona call her Dienne, trots over to him with a clipboard. “That’s lovely, dear!” she says, a bright smile lighting up her face. “Here, just put it on this table over here and I’ll mark it off.”

He puts the box on the table as gently as possible, on the off chance it’s filled with some fragile thing like glass or porcelain. Dienne pulls the tape off and opens the box, revealing some ancient-looking machinery and nearly a dozen vinyl records. She counts it all and makes little checkmarks on her clipboard, nodding.

Khadgar wipes some dust off his hands and turns back to the church. Only two left to go. 

The second box is significantly heavier than the first, he notices, and it jingles lightly as he moves. The pews crawl by him as he takes his time with the box, making sure not to jostle it too much. A different woman directs him, this time, and he places the box on a table filled with little porcelain figurines and painted glass vases. For a moment he’s confused, because he wasn’t aware that porcelain was so heavy, but when the lady opens the box and pulls out a pair of large, solid, ornately decorated stone statues he understands. 

The air in the church is heavy in his lungs when he goes back in for the last box. The light dances around him in dizzying patterns and he has to swallow the egg-sized lump in his throat to breathe properly again. He moves like molasses, inching his way to the altar with his heart pounding uncomfortably. Is the room longer than he remembered?

His hands close around the last box but somehow he can’t muster up the strength to pick it up. It feels like lead in his grip and his fingers feel tingly as they slide over the cardboard without purchase. He can’t seem to focus on anything, vision going hazy. He licks his lips and swallows audibly, trying again to pick it up. He manages to get it off the floor, but it’s tough to hold onto it so he rests it on his hip and begins the journey back out.

Somebody is talking to Khadgar but it sounds like it’s coming from underwater, muffled by the waves crashing around his ears. Is he drowning? It sure feels like it. He grabs onto the box in his arms a little tighter, as if it’s the only thing keeping him afloat. The box is pried out of his hands and he’s gently pushed into something solid (a pew, he recognizes). He sinks into the wood and grips the edge of it, not realizing earlier how hard he’s trembling. He tries to take deep, slow breaths to calm himself down but he chokes on them and they catch in his lungs.

“... kid?” the voice comes again, clearer this time. Khadgar focuses on it, staring down at a small corner of the tile on the floor between his feet. Oddly enough, there’s no water there. “Kid, can you hear me? Everything is fine, you’re safe. Just take deep breaths, in and out, for me, okay? One. Two. Three...”

He feels like a five year old but he follows the instructions, breathing with the count as deeply as his constricted chest allows. His vision begins to clear up (when did it go dark to begin with?) and he can make out shapes beyond the three inch pinhole it was a minute ago. There’s someone sitting beside him, a figure in a black shirt and dark pants, gently rubbing his back. As the touch registers in his mind, Khadgar shivers slightly and shrugs the hand off. The person removes their hand respectfully and scoots a little further from him, giving him space.

“You back on earth, kiddo?” the voice comes again, tinged with amusement and something like concern. Khadgar’s eyes drift in and out of focus, and he squints at the person beside him until he can make out their face.

Honestly, maybe he should have stayed in that nice foggy, unfocused state, because now he’s looking right in the face of a literal angel and there’s no way he isn’t dead. He definitely drowned, then. The angel’s expression morphs from one of concern to mild amusement, and Khadgar never wants to look away. 

“Hey, there you are,” the angel says, his glass-blue eyes flashing with laughter and relief. A bright smile peeks through his scraggly looking beard. “Welcome back, you gave me quite the scare, you know? You feeling any better?”

“Why am I not in hell?” Khadgar mutters, still kind of starstruck. The brightness of the church’s interior reflects on the angel’s mane of hair, tied into a messy ponytail at the nape of his neck just out of Khadgar’s line of sight. 

“Why would you be in hell?”

“I’m… dead?” Khadgar says, only half hesitant. The angel’s mouth falls open in surprise and his eyebrows find his hairline before he tosses his head back and barks out with laugher.

“I- I think you might need some-” the angel can barely speak through his mirth but Khadgar doesn’t mind, the sound is like a balm on his very soul. “You should probably go outside, kid, get some fresh air or something. You’re gonna be fine. D’you need help getting up or anything?”

Khadgar has nothing to say to that so he shakes his head and gets up on his own, picking up the abandoned box at his feet (thank god he hadn’t dropped it). It’s not as heavy this time, probably a result of the angel’s magic, and he feels lightheaded as he floats out the door with the box in hand. He’s immediately caught by Garona, who takes the box from him with a very concerned look.

“Khad, what happened in there? Someone told me you had some kind of panic attack??” she says, voice wheezy and panicked. 

“I… did I?” Khadgar’s brows furrow and he looks at the ground. In his peripheral vision, his hands are still trembling lightly. “That makes sense, yeah…”

“How come? You wanna talk about it?” Garona asks as she sets the box down on a random table and leads him a little way down the sidewalk. There’s a park bench that looks mostly clean, and she uses her hand to wipe off the dead leaves before sitting Khadgar down beside her. “Come, sit with me. If you were really so nervous about coming here, you should have told me! I wouldn’t’ve been mad or anything, Khad. Your health is more important than some dumb volunteering stuff, right?”

Khadgar shrugs nonchalantly, still not entirely sure where things started going downhill. “I don’t wanna get into it, but I’m okay now. There was this really hot guy with these gorgeous eyes and he helped me calm down and stuff.”

It’s Garona’s turn to look confused now. She pats Khadgar’s shoulder supportively and he leans into her touch, welcoming the gesture from her. Neither of them say anything for a minute or so while the wheels in Garona’s head begin to turn.

“This guy who helped you, what did he look like?” she asks, and Khadgar can’t stop himself from smiling, broad and goofy.

“God, Gar, I swore he was an angel at first,” he sighs, staring wistfully straight ahead, not focusing on anything in particular. “You know that stereotypical ‘jesus’ kind of look you see in old renaissance paintings where he has, like, long-ish gold hair and a messy beard but somehow it works? He looked like that. Except, you know, better.”

“You know, that could easily be describing my dad.” Garona points out and Khadgar sobers immediately, recoiling faster than if he’d been burned.

“Oh my god why would you  _ say _ that?!” he demands. “I was having a good time for, like, a minute. Why do you have to open your mouth?”

Garona doesn’t reply for how much she’s laughing. Khadgar slaps a hand over his own mouth and looks at her in horror. “I really hope that wasn’t your dad, holy crap,” he says, muffled by his hand. Garona somehow manages to laugh harder to the point where Khadgar is sure that people halfway across the city can hear her hooting like a madwoman.

Khadgar attempts to stop his friend from laughing so much but she smacks his hands away, cackling about ‘his face’ and ‘priceless’. Khadgar should be mad, but he feels the weight in his chest from earlier lessen and a cheery grin spreads across his lips. 

Garona successfully distracts him enough for him to completely miss the newcomer approaching them. He doesn’t even register a third person’s presence until he hears them clearing their throat behind him. 

Startled, Khadgar turns around and looks at the man. He’s tall and thin, with shoulder-length pale hair and a neatly trimmed beard. His eyes are a pale, faded blue and seem almost melancholy in contrast to the quirked smile he gives. Unlike the man from the church who helped him earlier, who radiated warmth and comfort from every aspect of his being.

“Dad!” Garona exclaims, getting to her feet and bringing the man into a hug. Khadgar almost passes out from relief. He gets up as well, rubbing his hands on his pants to get rid of the moisture on them. Garona releases her father and grabs Khadgar by his sleeve, pulling him closer. “Dad, this is my friend that I’ve been telling you about. Khadgar, this is my dad.”

Khadgar sticks out his hand and tries to look as presentable as possible, sticking on his best ‘customer service’ smile. Garona’s father looks from his hand to his face, and Khadgar feels a rush of cold run over him. He’s sweating a little bit by the time the man decides to take his hand and shake it.

“Pleased to meet you, Khadgar,” he says, letting go of Khadgar’s hand as soon as socially acceptable after a handshake. “My name is Medivh, I’m Garona’s father.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Medivh,” Khadgar replies, retracting his hand. “I’ve heard a lot of things about you.”

“All good, I hope?” Medivh asks, eyeing Garona out of the corner of his eye. She sticks her tongue out at him.

“Of course. I don’t think she has anything bad to say about you at all, actually.” Khadgar says truthfully, winking at Garona. She winks back.

“How kind of her.” Medivh says in a way that’s not quite sarcastic, but almost. Khadgar understands, now, where Garona’s sense of humor might come from. “Shall we head back to the church? The garage sale is about to open and we should be there to oversee it.”

Khadgar and Garona instantly agree and the three of them walk back together, sharing small talk and jokes on the way. Garona looks at Khadgar behind Medivh’s back while her father isn’t looking and mouths ‘not him?’ while pointing at his back. Khadgar has a very brief moment where his soul dies a little bit on the inside and vehemently shakes his head. Medivh asks Garona what she’s laughing about but the only reply she has for him is an ungraceful snort.

By the time they get back to the church the sale is in full swing, and it seems like most of the neighborhood came over to see what kind of wares are for sale. Khadgar spots and elderly man bargaining with Dienne for the record player and vinyls, a few tables over. Garona trots by with a small metal box and takes a spot at one of the tables, already discussing a sale with a potential customer. 

Khadgar feels quite useless, now that his help isn’t needed. He finds a spot on the church steps and sits down to watch the people as they browse. 

The day is slow and people don’t come as much as time goes by, and by the time it’s way past noon half of the tables are empty and there are only three stragglers still looking at the antiques and making offers. Khadgar distracts himself by reading things on his phone, either articles related to his thesis or just things he happens to come across, and playing games.

He doesn’t hear somebody sit beside him, he’s too absorbed in the paper he managed to get his hands on that has  _ just _ the evidence he needs for his project. The person clears their throat, making Khadgar jump nearly a foot in the air out of fright.

“Woah, sorry! You okay?” 

Khadgar faces the newcomer, who turns out to be the handsome angel man from before, and gives him an embarrassed smile.

“Sorry, it’s been a bit of a long day,” he apologizes. The man nods understandingly, rolling his shoulders and watching the sale wrap up.

“Yeah, I got that from earlier,” the man says. “That’s okay, not every day can be a good day, but that’s what makes the good days even better, isn’t it?”

Khadgar nods at the wisdom in that sentence. The man pulls back, looking surprised. “I can’t believe- where are my manners? I’m sorry, I’m Anduin. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Khadgar. A- and, likewise.” Khadgar replies, after a bit of short-circuiting on his part. Anduin gives him a bright smile in return.

“That’s a great name,” he says, gesturing to Khadgar’s phone where the eBook is still clearly visible. “A good name for a bookworm, yeah?”

Khadgar sputters in half offense. “I’m not a bookworm!” he protests. “I’m. Well read.”

“Is there a difference?”

Anduin’s grin is infectious, Khadgar thinks when he feels his own cheeks pull upward in a smile. He shakes his head and closes his phone.

“You got me there,” he admits. The summer air must be getting to him, because his face feels unnaturally warm. 

They share silence for a few moments, broken only by the bustle of the other volunteers to pick up the tables and tablecloths. It seems most of the knick-knacks that were brought out got sold, aside from the two stone statues which Khadgar honestly understands, because nobody in their right mind would want two random, heavy statues to carry back home. Especially since many of the customers that came apparently came here on foot.

“So, what’s a kid like you doing at church? I haven’t seen you around before.” Anduin says, turning to Khadgar. 

Khadgar shrugs, avoiding eye contact. “I’m here to help a friend.” he explains. “I’m not really the church-going type of guy.”

“Garona, right? She mentioned having a bookworm friend, except her exact words were ‘nerd-ass loser.’”

“Yeah, that sounds about right.” Khadgar snorts, fake glaring at Garona’s back as she goes about helping close the fold-out tables. 

“How come you don’t go to church?” Anduin asks, and it’s such an innocent question that Khadgar almost misses it, but his eyes widen and he visibly tenses. Anduin, picking up on the mood shift, attempts to fix the situation. “Not that it’s a bad thing! Not going to church, that is. Lots of people don’t go to church, for different reasons, and I just got curious-”

“Bad past experience.” Khadgar replies, cutting the man off. “It’s not even that big of a deal, really. Garona’s right, I’m just being overdramatic, that’s all.”

“Now, that’s not fair.” Lothar says, brows furrowing. “Your experiences must have warranted your reaction somehow.”

“Really it’s not that bad,” Khadgar reassures him, but even he has some doubts. “It’s just, I grew up in a really religious town, you know?”

Anduin leans forward a bit more, and Khadgar looks at him uncertainly for a few seconds before continuing. He’s almost scared of offending the other man or, worse, to change his opinion of him. 

“I… When I was younger, they. The church, I mean. They didn’t like how I… how I was, basically.” Khadgar says, wringing his hands uncomfortably. He steals a glance at Anduin, finding the other man with nothing but honest concern on his face, so he continues. The words fall out of his mouth like water out of a dam, and he has no control over them anymore.It feels good to let it out. “When I went to sunday school, they gave me a special teacher. They gave me weird candy, which were probably drugs now that I think about it, and they made me look at these  _ pictures _ and I was a  _ little kid _ , y’know? I didn’t need to see pictures like that! They would yell at me all the time for, like,  _ years _ and I was so scared. And then they had this yardstick, they would- well, whenever I... “

“Khadgar, did they hit you?” Anduin asks, cutting off his nervous rambling. Khadgar looks up at him with fearful eyes.

“Y… yeah,” he whispers, and he feels the other man take his hands and prying them apart. A quick glance down shows angry red scratch marks across his hands. Did he do that? 

“Khadgar, what you’re telling me… Did your church try to give you conversion therapy?”

Khadgar freezes up and a full-body shiver runs down his spine. He can’t bring himself to look at Anduin. This is it, he thinks, the other man is going to sneer at him in disgust and tell Khadgar to beat it before he beats  _ him _ -

“Khadgar? Khadgar?” 

He blinks repeatedly to clear the fuzz from his vision. He quickly realizes he’s no longer outside. When did he move? The chair he’s in is padded and comfortable, and there’s a light breeze in the room. He looks around and notices Anduin sitting a little farther away on another chair. The man looks up and gives Khadgar a reassuring smile.

“Thought we lost you a second time, there,” he says. “I figured you wouldn’t want to cause a scene outside, so I brought you in here. I hope that’s okay?”

Khadgar is confused for a moment, because how can Anduin still treat him kindly when he knows…

“Y… yeah, it’s fine.” Khadgar replies, getting up. “Sorry for being so much trouble, I-”

“No! No, no trouble at all, I tell you.” Anduin says, getting up as well. “I’m sorry I brought the subject up, I knew it must’ve been sensitive for you.”

The man slowly approaches Khadgar and, when he doesn’t find any flight response, gently pats his shoulder. “Thank you for being honest with me, Khadgar,” he says. “I understand what you went through must have been very hard for you, and I’m sorry you had to suffer that at the hands of what should have been accepting and loving people.”

“I… thank you.” Khadgar says, because what else could he say? The two remain silent for a few seconds, contemplating how to continue. Khadgar blushes slightly and looks away.

Finally, Anduin decides to speak up. “Here, give me your phone,” he says, holding out his hand. Khadgar looks from his hand to his face a few times before handing his phone over warily. Anduin takes it from him and begins typing something out on it. Khadgar watches him with suspicion, trying to peek over and see what the man is doing. After the most painful twenty seconds of his entire life, Anduin hands his phone back with a smug look.

“I put myself down as a contact,” he explains. “In case you ever want to talk about it, or something. Or, y’know, we could. Hang out? I can take you to lunch, sometime, if you’d like.”

Immensely conflicted, Khadgar thanks him and retrieves his phone with an embarrassed smile. Anduin pats his shoulder again and leads him back outside encouragingly. As they walk, Khadgar sneaks a peek at his phone.

_ Anduin Lothar _ , huh? Not bad, has a nice ring to it. Khadgar pockets the phone and follows Anduin outside, hearing him greet the volunteers cheerfully.

He hangs back again, since he doesn’t really know many people, but he waves when he sees Garona coming toward him. She gives him a thumbs up.

“Hey! I see you met Reverend Lothar?” she asks cheerfully, and Khadgar chokes on his own breath. He sputters ungracefully for a good ten seconds, garnering the attention of everyone in the area, so he waves it off and turns away to cover his mouth. Garona leans over, concerned. “You okay there, bud?”

After catching his breath Khadgar grabs Garona by her shoulders. “He’s the  _ priest?! _ ” he demands, voice a whisper-shout.

“Pastor, actually,” she corrects, “Why? Is that a problem? Oh my god wait-”

“No, no problem-”

“ _ It’s him?!” _ Garona whisper-shouts back, looking downright delighted at how this is turning out, completely opposite to how Khadgar is reacting. The way she’s smiling so hard you’d figure it’s christmas for her.

“Will you be quiet?!” Khadgar shushes her, looking around frantically. When he finds no inquisitive gazes on them, he returns to his friend. “What if it is, okay?! What would I even do about that?”

“Ask him out? There’s literally no reason not to.”

“You mean besides the fact that he’s a  _ priest?” _

Garona smacks Khadgar’s forehead. “ _ Pastor, _ ” she hisses, “and he’d probably be fine with it. He’s, like, super bi or something.”

“Is that supposed to be reassuring? What even says he’d like me back to begin with! And plus, he’s a pr-” Khadgar cuts himself off before Garona does, correcting himself. “He’s a  _ pastor _ . Isn’t being in a relationship, much less being  _ gay, _ like. Illegal?”

“Not if you’re Protestant!” Garona says cheerfully. “This is an ECLA church, so we’re pretty liberal about it.”

“... I have no idea what that means, but I’ll take your word for it.”

The pair help finish up folding the tables and carrying them back into the church. Khadgar, as much as he panicked earlier, feels much more calm walking through the church this time around. On their way to pick up the last table, Anduin- Reverend Lothar walks by them. He lightly taps Khadgar’s shoulder, and he turns to see what the man wants.

“Remember to text me later, or something, okay?” the Reverend says with a hopeful smile. Khadgar, still absolutely awestruck by the man, just nods and flushes brightly. Garona’s smile grows wider than before, which Khadgar didn’t think was possible and yet here they are.

“Text him?” she asks, giving Khadgar an intense look. “He gave you his number?”

“Yeah? He was probably just being nice because I was a mess,” Khadgar says, fidgeting under her scrutiny. 

“He rarely gives out his number. He’s so antisocial, he hates interacting with people outside the church.” Garona tells him and then punches him in the shoulder as lightly as she could manage, which is admittedly not very lightly at all. Khadgar reels a bit from the blow. “See? He likes you, man!”

“... Oh?” Khadgar’s voice is a high pitched squeak and he ducks his head to hide his blush. 

Up until the volunteers begin to leave, every time Reverend Lothar is anywhere within five meters of Khadgar Garona nudges him gently and wiggles her eyebrows at him. It takes everything in Khadgar’s being not to punch her in the face for it.

Almost all of the volunteers are gone by the time Garona’s father comes up to them, where they’re sitting on the church steps and cackling like a pair of loons. The man clears his throat, causing Garona to choke on her own laughter as she tries to calm herself down.

“Anduin and I are going to visit Llane,” Medivh says, and Garona nods. “If your friend, here, could give you a lift…?”

“Yeah, sure, I can do that,” Khadgar agrees, nodding as well. “No problem.”

“Thank you. It was a pleasure to meet you, Khadgar.” The man waves with a small smile and returns to where Reverend Lothar is waiting. The older men share a whisper that ends with Lothar elbowing Medivh viciously and storming off.

Khadgar watches as they go, slightly concerned. “Are they okay?” he asks.

“Hm? Yeah, don’t worry, they’re fine.” Garona reassures him. “Hey, if you wanna stay over for a bit we can play Smash Bros and order pizza or something.”

“Sounds good to me. I wasn’t really doing anything important anyway.” Khadgar gets up and brushes the sand off his pants, conveniently putting his thesis on hold once again. “Wanna pick it up on our way or just order?”

“We can call and order right now, and that way the pizza’ll get there at the same time as us?” Garona offers, and Khadgar makes finger-guns at her.

“I like how you think.” he says, winking.

The short walk to Khadgar’s car is filled mostly with silence, only broken by the keypad tones from Garona’s phone as she dials the pizza place. Khadgar steps into his car and starts it up, waiting while she finishes ordering. Garona takes her seat heavily, making the whole car bounce and Khadgar winces. 

She gives him a thumbs up. “Let’s hit the road, buddy-o!”

Khadgar shakes his head and revs the engine, turning on the radio as he peels out of the parking lot. A deep, melancholic piano chord fills the car and Garona turns to him with a savage grin on her face. With a sigh, he resigns himself to merciless teasing as Hozier’s crooning voice gently begs him to ‘take me to church’.

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer I'm not a church-goer and i have no idea how conversion therapy actually works, all of that is based solely on people's answers and what came up in google search  
> also disclaimer, not all panic attacks/dissociation work like this, this is based mostly on my experiences bc i didnt want to bother anyone else about it ;v; srry
> 
> thanks for reading!! i love you <3


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